


Rest.

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Patrician & Clerk [5]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Book: The Truth, Complicated Relationships, Injury, Intimacy, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 06:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18131996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: “This is not a punishment,” Vetinari said, his voice a mix of impatient and beseeching. “You need to rest.”“But I–”“No.”





	Rest.

**Author's Note:**

> ☀️ Drumknott trying to work while far too ill/injured?
> 
> Put a ☀️ and a prompt in my ask for a minifill!

“I need to get dressed,” Drumknott said blearily, the day after they return home from the Watchhouse. 

“You do not,” Vetinari replied, and he drew Drumknott’s dressing gown gently over his arms and shoulders, beginning to do up its fastenings and tie the belt across his belly. Drumknott does not struggle as Vetinari draws, too, a soft cloth scarf about his neck, tucking it into the robe, and then he sets Drumknott’s slippers down before him.

“I can’t  _work_  like this,” Drumknott said.

“You are quite correct,” Vetinari murmured. He was already dressed, had slipped from the bed before Drumknott had stirred, and Drumknott felt the wound in his shoulder give a nasty twang of pain. There were stitches through the wound, and he’d have to get those out in a while, but for now, he simply had the bandages around his arm. “You are not  _going_  to work.”

“My lord–”

“ _No,”_ Vetinari said sharply, and Drumknott suppressed a flinch. Drumknott took in a desperate little gasp as Vetinari’s hands set down on the surface of each of his cheeks, cupping his face and making Drumknott look up at his face, the expression of which was deeply serious, his mouth a thin line. “You are going to sit on the chaise long in my office, where I might see you. You are not going to fetch files. In a few  _days_ , perhaps, you might do some paperwork.” 

“I’m sorry,” Drumknott said, his stomach performing a series of anxious flips in his belly, “I am, just–”

“This is not a  _punishment_ ,” Vetinari said, his voice a mix of impatient and  _beseeching._  “You need to  _rest_.”

“But I–”

“ _No.”_

Drumknott held his tongue. 

He had hoped, once they were settled in the Oblong Office, that he might be permitted to do  _something_ , but Grant and Rand, the two clerks assisting in his absence didn’t pass anything to him, and Vetinari wouldn’t allow him to much as  _stand_  from the chaise long in the corner of his office… He did try to sleep. He  _did_  try. But he’d slept  _enough_ , and although he had moments of abrupt fatigue, right now, he was wide awake. 

“My lord,” Drumknott said softly, after listening to the soothing scratch of Vetinari’s pen on paper for the past twenty minutes in silence, “might I–”

Vetinari stood from his desk, setting his quill down on the desk, and Drumknott watched as he leaned down, crossing the room and back to the chaise long. With a sharp  _thump_ , he dropped a stack of manuscripts on the little table beside him, and Wuffles, who had been curled against Drumknott’s thigh, looked up sleepily. 

“You may read,” Vetinari said, “or you may sleep.”

“But I can help–”

“You can read these books, or you can sleep,” Vetinari said. “If you say one more  _word_  to me about being permitted to work, Drumknott,  _bad things_  will happen to you.” Vetinari’s voice was a low rumble, and it made a shiver run down Drumknott’s spine, but under the Patrician’s sharp gaze, he reached reluctantly for the manuscript on the top of the pile, and looked down at it for a long moment.

_Emergent Poisons & Venoms in the New Century_

_Lord H. Vetinari_

“This isn’t published,” Drumknott said, and he glanced to the other manuscripts, running his fingers down the string bindings of their spines.

“No,” Vetinari agreed. “It hasn’t been edited.” 

He held out a pencil. 

“Thank you,” Drumknott whispered.

“ _Sleep_ , if you need to,” Vetinari said sternly.

“Yes, sir.”

“I will tie you down if I have to.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I might tie you down anyway.”

“It would raise questions from visitors to your office, sir.”

“Perhaps so, but the answers would be obvious enough.”

“Don’t make me laugh. It makes my chest hurt.”

Vetinari reached out, gently drawing his thumb over the side of Drumknott’s cheek, and Drumknott let his eyes flutter closed. He felt tired, abruptly, and Vetinari gently took the manuscript from his lap and set it on the pile, the pencil on top. 

“I’m not tired,” Drumknott said, his eyelids feeling heavy.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Vetinari murmured, and Drumknott let his head recline on the pillow, feeling Wuffles wriggle up closer, against his belly. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up [on Dreamwidth](https://dictionarywrites.dreamwidth.org/2287.html). You can send requests [on Tumblr](http://patricianandclerk.tumblr.com/ask), too. Requests always open.


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